Small hands are washing the dishes. Clouds float over frozen puddles along Central Ave. There is no time. A small speaker rattles some pop radio station.
Neil is on the phone as the last customers leave the diner. The sun is going behind the building as the street lights fill the sidewalk with a sick amber light.
Snow is on the way and Neil knows he is running out of time.
For now the weather forecast threatens a night of snow that would make all the streets impassable. Neil watches the first flakes of snow float across the stores window as he hangs up the receiver. He sits and takes the last sip from his cup. Time is running out. People are meandering outside as if the signals were getting scrambled from the hive. Some people file into the next door store for milk and needed rations to wait out the storm others just walk by the window watching the beginning of the snow. Neil makes a note on his napkin.
Remind me dear what I might need tonight- my head is empty like my heart-there is only so many breaths I can take-there just isn't enough time to tell you everything so let me just say- I won't forget the milk.
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